


True Face

by Ariel_Riddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Dramione Duet Exchange, F/M, Harry Potter Dies, Protective Draco, S&R:CRW, Secret Identity, Werewolf Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8040433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Riddle/pseuds/Ariel_Riddle
Summary: A/U Voldemort wins. When things take a horrifying turn for the worse at the final battle, Hermione must go under cover as a Muggle in order to survive. Ten years later, she cannot escape notice forever, especially when Praetor Malfoy has troubles of his own that prompt him to seek out the mysterious Muggle Healer, Piper Daniels.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Darkrivertempest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/gifts).



> I really loved the prompt I was given by my dramione_duet partner! It definitely got the creative juices flowing. I tried to incorporate as many of the kinks as I could for this fic and it was easy to avoid the squicks as they were very near my own. I did struggle with the word count as the plot just wouldn't stop. I hope you like the story! A huge thanks to LeanaM for the incredible beta.

 

 

  
  
Dodging past wayward spells and narrowly avoiding a non-sentient gargoyle that plunged straight in his path, Draco navigated through the crumbling castle.  
  
He moved quickly through the devastation. If he was found away from formation, the Dark Lord's wrath would be terrible. But he had lost track of _her_ , somewhere between the time when his mother had pronounced Potter dead, and the last of the school made one final and foolish attempt to challenge the Dark Lord and his forces.  
  
She'd been there of course, Granger. Front and center as always. Gripping her wand tightly as she stared down the enemy. Tears had dried on her filthy cheeks and Draco knew she had heard the news, yet still, she fought.  
  
Draco did not have time to seek her out as he duelled for his life. Former teachers. Former classmates. They all blurred together. He wanted to yell at them, shake some sense into them, _Apparate, get out of here!_ The wards of the school had long since been brought down and it wasn't as if anything were stopping them.  
  
In the midst of the confusion, Draco decided to look for her one last time. It wasn't long before he found her. The flashes of light from a duel gave her away. She was fighting Yaxley and they were largely alone in the First Floor corridor. He ran up to her just as she landed a fatal cutting hex on the older Death Eater.  
  
Hearing his footsteps, she whirled on him, wand raised. "Malfoy," she spat. "Here to try and finish me off, Ferret?"  
  
"Granger," he said, putting his hands up in surrender. "I'm not here to hurt you, I can help you escape."  
  
She scoffed and her eyes hardened. "Help me? Fat chance."  
  
"I'm serious, Granger. Whatever our differences, there's no point in fighting. Potter is gone and you've lost. You'll be imprisoned, likely enslaved. You don't know what they'll do to you if you get captured." He slowly withdrew an object from his pocket, holding it up for her to see. "This is an international portkey. It will take you to France. It won't be safe there forever, but it's safer than Britain. Just take it."  
  
"You expect me to believe you actually care what happens to me?"  
  
Draco stayed silent. The truth was, he wasn't quite sure why he wanted to help her. There was just something about imagining the Gryffindor princess in the Dark Lord's clutches that made his stomach twist. She was an insufferable know-it-all, constantly besting him at school, a Mudblood with no right to practice magic... but now, in the midst of all the death and destruction, victory did not feel sweet. The finality and the seriousness of what Lord Voldemort's triumph meant caused him to fear the future he had once ignorantly looked forward to.  
  
"Exactly," she said, mistaking his silence for insincerity. "How do I know that portkey won't transport me to my own personal cell in Malfoy Manor?"  
  
"Please, Granger. Trust me, just this once."  
  
She eyed him shrewdly, but her mind was made up. "I don't think I will, Malfoy." With that, she'd thrown a stunning hex at him and spun around, fleeing down the corridor without verifying if it landed. Of course he deflected the curse but he knew it was useless to go after her.  
  
He saw a flash of denim and a pink Muggle hoody in the rubble before the whole courtyard was set ablaze. It signified the end of his childhood and the beginning of a new, dark era. Voldemort's reign had begun and there was no one left to oppose him.

 

**000**

  
Hermione gathered her cloak in both hands as she ran into the forest, wincing as she heard the dried leaves crunch under her feet. It would take too much effort to cast a wandless disillusionment charm. Besides, it was still early enough that her district was not yet crawling with patrols.  
  
Wessex security had gone lax in recent years. Perhaps because there hadn't been any trouble from its citizens. With the destruction of the last cell phone tower, Muggles didn't have a way to communicate with each other any longer. It was impossible to organize forces against their pure-blood oppressors. The last time a Muggle-born had been carted off to Azkaban was years ago. The Order had been decimated, the remaining resistance snuffed out. Hermione was sure she was the last free Muggleborn- _utterly alone_.  
  
She glanced over her shoulder to check for Dementors who often liked to linger at the edge of the forest. She hadn't seen one in some time, but she always checked regardless. She supposed this was one of the safer Districts to have fled to. The Muggle world was the first place she'd come to hide after faking her death at the Battle of Hogwarts. It hadn't been long before the Death Eaters had taken over Muggle Britain, placing Muggles in their _rightful place_.  
  
Ten years later, and the immortal Lord Voldemort ruled the world.  
  
They had been lucky in Wessex. Despite the famine spreading wildly over Britain, there were still an abundance of magical herbs and potions ingredients in the woods, if one knew where to look. There were only so many potions she could brew undetected with her pilfered supplies and without a wand, mostly antidotes and healing potions, but - luckily - also the important Drought Solution.  
  
Drought Solution was their saving grace; the only way to make the soil, corrupted by dark magic, fertile for planting. So despite the famine, there was food in abundance in Wessex. The co-op she'd organized was able to trade with neighboring districts: they offered carrots, tomatoes, and their staple—potatoes, as well as her healing tonics and traded it for the grain and dairy they were lacking.  
  
She moved stealthily through the forest, clutching her cloak so as not to let it catch on the bushes, eyes darting around as she tried to spot the herbs she needed. She knelt down excitedly to pluck some mistletoe berries she could use for Blood-Replenishing potion. Last week she'd been lucky enough to discover dittany growing under a cluster of bushes and it had been ages since she'd been able to brew Essence of Dittany.  
  
The wood was eerily quiet at this time of the morning, still dark, but not for long. So when she heard the telltale howl of a wolf, goose pimples rose on her flesh as her heart clenched violently in her chest. _Merlin, get a grip Hermione_ , she chided herself. _It's probably just a Muggle animal_. Still, her adrenaline was rushing and she figured she'd better finish up and get back to her quarters.  
  
Hastily getting up, she scouted out the giant birch tree she used as reference to locate the poppy flowers. She made her way to it and sat on the ground, withdrawing a paring blade to slice off the thorns of the poppy. Poppy thorns were useful in making burn-healing paste, which was in high demand thanks to Nott and his ever-persistent need to torture Muggles.  
  
_Bloody Malfoy, letting his Death Eaters run around and terrorize the poor Muggles!_ She had to admit that there were very few fatalities in this district compared to what she'd heard of others, but still, she deplored the way witches and wizards took to tormenting their Muggle slaves.  
  
In the beginning she'd been surprised that Muggles were not simply eradicated, but Voldemort got a sick sense of pleasure by forcing the offspring of those he thought had oppressed him into slave labor. Or maybe it was the fact that house elves could not carry out _all_ the duties of serving and Muggles did have their uses, whether farming out in the fields, or making clothes the Muggle way in factories, or even warming some pure-blood's bed. _That_ had been a practice frowned upon in the beginning, but it seemed commonplace now.  
  
Hermione paused her diligent work to run her fingers across the unfamiliar lines of her face. Her jaw was angular and her face was thin. She had transfigured it that way, plain and indistinguishable. Her once furiously curly hair was now straight and stringy. After ten years, she wondered if she'd even recognize herself. Regardless, the best course was to keep her head down in the presence of pure-bloods.  
  
She fingered the Rune carved into her neck and behind her ear, hidden in a cluster of blue butterflies looking reminiscent of a Muggle tattoo. The Rune, _Cheilt Fein_ , was her safety. A way to stay hidden and keep her identity secret. She was no longer Hermione Granger, Order leader, but Piper Daniels, Muggle Healer, virtually unrecognizable by those witches and wizards that she had once known from the Wizarding world, even attended school with.  
  
She didn't hear anything, not even a leaf crunching or a twig snapping, but she sensed when she was no longer alone. She got up carefully from her crouched position, with nothing but the large birch clouding her view. She forced her breathing steady, clutching her paring knife by her side and attempting to conceal the potions ingredients in her cloak pockets.  
  
The temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees and her breathing hitched when she felt hot breath on her neck.  
  
Gripping the small blade so hard it cut into her fingers, she gulped audibly before finally working up the nerve to spin around and face her attacker.  
  
Fear gripped her as she had to tip her head back, _way back_ , to take in the form of a werewolf, not dissimilar to Lupin's form she had faced in Third Year. She was seized with panic when she met his yellow eyes, still startlingly human.  
  
Acting on instinct, she plunged the blade into the beast's fur and took off running, cringing when she heard the howl that came out of its short snout. She ran until she reached a small clearing, unsure where she was. Glancing up at the sky she saw stars disappearing and realized the forest was getting lighter. She ran on into the woods towards the direction she thought the barracks were in. She couldn't shake the feeling that beast was stalking after her and she looked around wildly.  
  
  
  
She stumbled over an upturned root and she fell face first, hard onto the forest floor. She made a valiant effort to pull herself up from her vulnerable position, only to be flung into the nearest tree, claws digging into her shoulder.  
  
She slumped against the tree, defeated. The beast stalked towards her, looking brutally unhinged. She spotted the blade still protruding out of its side. Her shoulder burned painfully and her ankle was badly sprained if not broken.  
  
So this was how she would die, of all the ways it could have happened, she was going to be taken out by a bloody werewolf.  
  
She looked past the raging beast, to the sun cresting the wooded hill. _My last sunrise_.  
Suddenly she saw the creature wrench violently and she gasped when the werewolf in front of her morphed into its human form.  
  
_Yes, of course! How could I be so stupid? It only retains werewolf form for the night_. Edging out of the way of the tormented beast, she half scooted, half crawled from its line of vision. She kept her eyes glued on the creature while she got shakily to her feet. She meant to make her escape but she was frozen by the sight before her.  
  
The tufts of fur gave way to skin that seemed smooth in some areas but was riddled with scars in others. The ears receded into the head, a head that now boasted platinum blond hair, looking strangely silver in the dusky morning light.  
  
Hermione let out an involuntary screech as she recognized the distracting, naked man in front of her who made no move to cover himself. "Praetor Malfoy," she said, ducking her head as her cheeks flushed. "Oh God, I'm so sorry! I didn't know…" She hadn't been this close to him in years, not since the Battle of Hogwarts. And now he was panting, staring at her angrily, likely about to kill her, whether he recognized her or not.  
  
"What are you still doing here? Do you not have any sense of preservation? The forest is forbidden, get out of here, stupid girl."  
  
Her brain was racing as she scrambled to her feet. _What? He's letting me leave? Even when I now know he's a werewolf?_  
  
Not needing to be told twice, she scrambled hastily away, cursing herself silently as she realized she'd lost her paring knife.  
  
Gathering her wits, she took off running for her quarters without looking back. She half expected him to follow, but he never did.

 

 

**000**

  
"Piper," Lucy snapped, not for the first time. "Have you been listening to a thing I've said?"  
  
Hermione mentally shook herself. Her ankle was still throbbing painfully and reminded her constantly of the events that happened early in the morning. She still could not fathom why he had let her leave.  
  
"Sorry," she said quickly. "I'm just tired. Went on a foraging mission this morning."  
  
"Will you be making more tonics soon? Lord knows we need them. Praetor has been entertaining that witch from Aberdeen District and you do know how she favours that flaming curse."  
  
"Yes, it will only take me a week or so to brew. Now what were you saying, Lucy?"  
  
"The shipment for Billingham. General Nott is coordinating this one so it will be more difficult to make our side trade."  
  
Hermione sighed, running an exasperated hand through her straight hair. "Can't we wait another week until General Goyle has command of it?"  
  
"I don't think so." Lucy shook her head firmly. "We've already stalled once, and we have the extra vegetables under the Ministry crates. Sam packed them just this morning."  
  
"We'll have to do it like normal, then. We'll just have to make sure it goes without a hitch. We've done this hundreds of times before. Nott may be sharper than Goyle but he's too pompous to be suspicious."  
  
Lucy nodded. "Hopefully. I suppose we'll cross our fingers."  
  
"I suppose so."

 

 

**000**

  
Hermione couldn't sleep that night.  
  
It was already midnight and she'd need to get up in three hours, yet sleep evaded her. She had checked and rechecked the disillusioned-trick-room in their quarters where they grew their secret vegetables, away from the Ministry's crops. All the wards were in place and safeguarded. She had left out the radishes and potatoes so that Sam and his crew could deliver them under the cover of night to the hungry citizens of Wessex.  
  
It had troubled Hermione the first few months she'd been here; how little the Ministry decided to give them of the food _they_ grew. The District officials kept them nearly starved, but it hadn't taken her long to find a way around it and develop the co-op. The Muggles she worked with, she trusted fully, and their group worked together like a well-oiled machine.  
  
Yet still, her mind did not shut off as she wished it would when she was finally able to get a few moments alone.  
  
When the knock came on her door, she bolted up immediately. Fear clawed up her mind as she wondered whether or not something had happened to Sam. She went to the door and opened it with shaky fingers.  
  
Her breath caught in her chest as she saw the man towering in the doorway of her one room flat.  
  
_Malfoy!_ So he had come to kill her. He stood in the doorway looking ever the debonair pure-blood and very much like his father once did, silver snake head cane and all.  
  
"Praetor," she said, forcing her breath to steady. "Do you need help with something?"  
  
He walked in gracefully, taking an imperious look around her small quarters. She edged tentatively after him. Whatever happened, she hoped he would not discover the trick room. She had worked painstakingly for months to build it, a task that had seemed impossible without a wand. It was not nearly as large as Grimmauld Place had been, but similar in that it was hidden between two flats, with magically altered ceilings that mimicked sunlight during the day. They had packed it with soil and infused the ground with Drought solution so that they had crops all year round. Aside from herself, only Lucy and Sam knew how to enter it.  
  
"I can smell your fear," Malfoy said, dangerously low as his sharp eyes darted around her flat. "I know your secret...I could smell it."  
  
Hermione was sure her heart had stopped beating. Sweat culminated on her brow and she stood frozen in her spot.  
  
He turned to face her, seeming to see right through her. "I smell it now." Hermione sputtered as she tried to say something… anything remotely intelligent. _Get a grip Hermione!_ "No need to deny it. You're a Mudblood."  
  
Relief and fear came over her, warring with each other. Her identity was still safe, but he knew she was not just a Muggle. Her attention was pulled by the clattering of silver hitting the counter of her makeshift kitchen. Her eyes widened as she identified the paring knife. He'd returned it. Did he mean to kill her with it? That would take a while…  
  
"I have a proposition for you, would you like to hear it?"  
  
Not trusting herself to speak, she gave a slight nod.  
  
"You know of my... _affliction_." Malfoy looked strangely haunted for a moment, before seeming to shake himself and face her once more. "I'm in need of a Potioneer. I know you're the resident Muggle Healer, and I'm aware of the illicit trade you have been facilitating on the black market."  
  
"I don't-."  
  
He waved a hand dismissively. "I've known for years. Do you think I care? I don't mind if my citizens are so capable they not only fill the Ministry quota but additionally produce extra crops for themselves. I know you tend to the sick—this is not my concern—this _Muggle business_. But now I know you have an additional secret. And that I do care about."  
  
"I don't even have sufficient means, or materials to brew potions, sir. I make merely pastes or antidotes. Simple things that don't require very much."  
  
"If you agree to be my Potioneer, I will see to it you have the means you require."  
  
"You won't turn me in, have the Dementors take me to Azkaban for being a Mudblood?"  
  
"Everyone has their uses, Miss Daniels. I would be remiss to let such an opportunity slip away. Tell me, do you know how to brew Wolfsbane?"  
  
"I, er hypothetically. I never attended school, sir."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I was tutored privately. I was supposed to start the year after the Quidditch World Cup," she lied. She supposed she could pull off twenty-four instead of twenty-eight.  
  
"The year Hogwarts hosted The Triwizard Tournament. Yes, I suppose those were trying times. But they didn't even teach how to brew Wolfsbane at school. If they did, I would know how. Many texts were lost as well as the knowledge, during the war. I have many volumes in my library but they are all old texts. Wolfsbane is relatively new."  
  
"What makes you think I can brew it?"  
  
"It takes some talent to conduct and conceal the illicit business I'm sure you're responsible for. If there's any chance of someone having the knowledge, my galleons would be on you."  
  
"Monkshood is rare, can you come by it? I've never brewed the potion before but I think I could." He nodded. "If I help you, what's in it for me?"  
  
"Protection. Protection for those you care about and more importantly for yourself. I will make sure my Generals don't give you trouble. You may even stay at the Manor. My servants' quarters are much more comfortable than this hovel here."  
  
"No!" Hermione wanted to kick herself at her outburst. For a moment, his eyes darkened with displeasure and her world shifted as she thought she sensed a flash of recognition pass through his gaze. The moment was over so quickly, she had to wonder if it had even happened. "I mean… this is my home. I'm comfortable here, if it's all the same to you." The last thing she wished to do was find herself living in Malfoy Manor.  
  
"It may work for now. I'll have to change your job. Instead of being a farmhand you will be a servant at the Manor—duties undisclosed. You will have to travel by portkey."  
  
She pressed her lips together, a pensive look on her face. "Alright." Really, what choice did she have?

 

 

**000**

  
The Potions Chamber had a pleasant ambiance to it and Hermione found herself oddly right at home.  
  
Malfoy handed her a maple wood wand. "You can use this spare wand only when you are in the chamber."  
  
Hermione grinned sardonically. "This is highly illegal."  
  
"Then I suppose it's in both of our best interests for you to exercise caution."  
  
She bit back a cheeky retort and merely nodded.  
  
"Over there on that shelf," Malfoy gestured to the wall behind her. "You can find ingredients and there are also some in that cabinet over there."  
  
"Did you get the Aconite?" she asked, remembering the one time she had helped Tonks brew the potion for Professor Lupin.  
  
"Yes, that much I knew. It's already on laid out on the table by the cauldron."  
  
She walked over to the table, examining the cauldron. "Copper won't do. It has to be pewter. And once I've added the honeywater, it will need to be stirred under the moonlight."  
  
"You sound like you've done this before."  
  
"My tutor Rufus had a book. _Noted Potioneers of the Twentieth Century_. Damocles was one of the Potioneers featured."  
  
"Ah. How fortunate of your parents to allow you to be tutored. Where are they now?"  
  
"Dead, sir," she said flatly.  
  
He pursed his lips and her attention was momentarily drawn to them. When had her childhood tormentor grown to be so handsome? Gone was the boy that had been forced to grow up too quickly. This was a man, and donning his father's ring with the Malfoy coat of arms and carrying the snake-head encrusted cane, he reminded Hermione very much of a young, short-haired Lucius.  
  
"I suppose we're both orphans then," he mused.  
  
Her eyes widened slightly at the admission. She hadn't known he'd lost his parents. Against her better judgement, she opened her mouth to speak. "Did your parents not survive the Battle of Hogwarts?"  
  
"No, they survived it. They were sent on a mission to Bulgaria and didn't come home. I was in Romania."  
  
She felt a flicker of pity for him and looked away quickly. She noticed a star chart laying on the table and absently grabbed a quill to fill in a few spaces.  
  
"You know where to put the answers? Even though you're not gazing at the stars?" He seemed mildly amused.  
  
"Well, you already have Thebe here so this is obviously where Europa goes."  
  
He chuckled. "You know, you remind me of someone I once knew."  
  
She gulped down the dread that welled up after his statement "Oh? A friend?"  
  
"An enemy."  
  
She was not surprised by his words but she was surprised by the way he had delivered them—almost with a tone of sadness.

 

**000**


	2. Chapter 2

 

**000**

  
It really wasn't so bad working for Malfoy, especially when compared to the other options out there. Ellis, the Muggle overseer, had been a menace to work for in the Farming sector. And Hermione felt terribly for the many girls who had to work under the madam that ran the brothel—she was horrible.  
  
She had worried once she'd taught him how to make Wolfsbane Potion, he would discard her, but he found a lot of uses for her. Not only was she tasked with the job of restocking his potions supply faster than he could deplete them, but she also took to filling out star charts, doing Arithmancy calculations, and running his schedule for him. She had made herself indispensable and was slowly coming to terms with working for Malfoy.  
  
It was easier than ever to run the co-op with her newfound status, and she had to begrudgingly admit Malfoy was a pleasant employer.  
  
The change was gradual, but she began to develop feelings of trust towards the Praetor.

 

 

**000**

  
"You never send for me anymore," whined Astoria as she sashayed over to where he was seated behind his desk. She perched daintily on his lap. "Don't you miss me?"  
  
"You know I've been busy, pet." Draco leaned over the distracting form of Astoria in order to better see the Ministry's new edict. He resented the needy witch who was vying for his attention.  
  
"You're always busy. Honestly, after the war I thought things were supposed to get better, but it's just work work work."  
  
"It takes work to rebuild and to stay in power."  
  
Astoria gave him a sly look as she picked up her legs to wrap around him. He sighed and his face tensed with displeasure. Undeterred, Astoria grabbed a fistful of his hair and goaded him into a kiss, rocking her hips ever so seductively against him. He knew he had things to do, but he was a man and couldn't help responding to her ministrations.  
  
Smirking her triumph, she didn't waste anytime reaching for his trousers. They were both startled by the office door opening.  
  
"Praetor, I-, oh, I'm so sorry!" Draco was amused by his servant's obvious discomfort and blushing cheeks as she turned to leave.  
  
"Hold on a moment." She froze by the door and he turned to apologetically face Astoria. "Sorry, pet. I need to tend to business. We'll meet up later." Astoria pouted prettily but began to pull herself off of his lap and make her way to the door, shooting a condescending look at the petrified Mudblood.  
  
Draco did not know why he found her discomfort so amusing, or why he was so put off by Astoria lately. He used to find her entertaining, in the very least, but now his attention was drawn elsewhere. It was odd that a plain Muggleborn like Piper Daniels could capture his interest so, but he realized he'd become attracted to her scent, and his inner wolf awakened whenever she was near. What was more, behind the demure facade he could tell there was a fiery intelligence that reminded him of another Muggleborn he once knew.  
  
Getting up from his chair, he snatched the parchment from his desk and walked over to her. "What's on the schedule for today?"  
  
Recovering slightly, Piper read from the paper she clutched. "A meeting with the generals to discuss the rise in crop production the Ministry has ordered."  
  
"And," he prompted.  
  
"There is the matter of the stray kelpie. It's been spotted East of here and the Aberdeen District asks that you send a man to help catch it."  
  
"Yes, we have been having issues with magical creatures ever since Avery headed the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures . What else?"  
  
"The influx of Muggles who have strayed here, sir."  
  
"I don't know why they flee their own districts." He turned to grab his cloak and about to leave when she stopped him.  
  
"Oh, Praetor," she called, forcing him to stop and face her once more. "There's another letter. I don't know who it's from, it only has a sigil of a wildcat or something on it."  
  
He gave her an appraising once over. Piper Daniels had been a godsend. He was indeed fortunate to have plucked her from obscurity. He could have never anticipated just how clever the Muggleborn actually was. She was not much to look at, but there was something about the fire in her eyes that seemed to draw him in. Still, he didn't trust her just yet.  
  
"I'll take that." He snatched the letter from her hand. "Take the rest of the evening off. You can check out my library like I know you've been itching to do."  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
He hurried from his office, eager to open the letter.

 

 

**000**

  
Hermione was teetering precariously as she gripped the ladder with one hand and reached for a large tome high above her head and to the right with the other. She barely had her fingers around the book when she lost her balance and fell to the floor.  
  
She screwed her eyes shut, bracing herself for an impact that never came. Instead, she was swooped up in Malfoy's arms and held tightly against his chest. Her arms had somehow anchored themselves around his neck. As she looked up into his gray eyes, churning like hot metal, she lost her breath, caught in his stare. She saw his nostrils flare and was reminded of the dangerous beast he turned into once a month. _Though not so dangerous, now that we're brewing Wolfsbane regularly_.  
  
The thought made her feel giddy and she felt slightly intoxicated as she noticed flecks of blue in his intense silver eyes.  
  
"Piper," he said lowly, neglecting completely to put her down. "Why did you not use your wand to levitate the book down?"  
  
"I'm only allowed to in the chamber," she rasped.  
  
"Of course." Taking a deep breath, he set her on her feet and straightened her. "What was so important you needed to risk breaking your neck to get?"  
  
" _The Healing Properties of Magical Waterplants_ ," she answered tremulously. He still held her arms and she found it difficult to concentrate. _Quit being silly_ , she chided herself. "I thought the information could be pertinent."  
  
"Pertinent?"  
  
"Well, yes." She snatched her hands away, taking a step back to regain her bearings. "You're constantly draining your healing supplies. I wanted to see what other healing potions I could brew." _Stop rambling!_  
  
He took a step forward, invading her space once more. "Are you content with your life as a Mudblood?"  
  
"I-, what?" The question took her by surprise.  
  
"Do you think it's fair?" His eyes had darted to her lips and she felt her cheeks flame as she attempted in vain to stave off these silly feelings. Malfoy had his choice of suitable witches, he wouldn't be interested in a Mudblood. But even as she tried to convince herself, she saw the way his pupils dilated and his eyes flashed like lightning. Her heart reacted with answering thunder, beating loudly in her chest. "That someone like you, with your intelligence and determination, should live oppressed?"  
  
With his eyes transfixed by her lips, Hermione could not help but feel like she was in the presence of a hunter. She knew from her reading that lycanthropy could have beastly side effects. What if the werewolf in him had caught her scent? What if a part of him wanted to finish what he'd started? She should be afraid but, to her shame it was _not_ fear she felt.  
  
She could hear blood pumping behind her ears and felt her pulse rocketing. She really should step away, Malfoy was looking far too dangerous and she had no business still standing in place.  
  
Yet, she could not bring herself to move.  
  
As if that was consent enough, Malfoy's head dipped down the last few inches and locked roughly onto her lips. She was overwhelmed by the intensity of it. Her hands itched to thread into his hair. Wouldn't it be wonderful to feel those silky blond locks between her fingers? Hadn't she dreamed, even fantasized about it? She'd done well to guard her thoughts during the day, but now it all came crashing down.  
  
His lips moved against hers expertly and through her shock, she begin to respond in kind, vaguely aware of the way his hands had fallen to her hips. Tingles shot torturously down her spine as she tasted him, breathing him in, finding him oddly intoxicating.  
  
She ached to arch into his grip, to let her hands wander, to wrap them around his neck and pull him close. Something held her back and suddenly, she realized who she was kissing.  
  
Malfoy.  
  
Her captor, for all intents and purposes.  
  
Just because he had shown himself to be a decent captor so far, it did not erase the fact that he was. They were divided on two sides of a war and what was more... _oh, dear Merlin, he doesn't even know who I am!_  
  
The thought was enough for her to break the kiss, stepping back with a gasp. He was breathing heavily, lips swollen and his gray eyes stormy.  
  
"No," she answered throatily.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your question, I don't think it's fair. I hate it."  
  
Slowly, a smile spread across his face that made Hermione feel slightly uncomfortable; it was decidedly wicked. He nodded in understanding... _like he could understand!_ "The reason I came looking for you...I have a meeting tomorrow night and I'm bringing you with me."  
  
"Me?" She paled.  
  
"Yes. In the Aberdeen District."  
  
"That meeting wasn't on the schedule."  
  
His smirk only grew wider. "Piper, keep the wand on you. Concealed of course. We don't want any more accidents."  
  
Hermione could not even acknowledge his order as watched him leave.

 

 

**000**

 

  
  
Draco glanced over at Piper as they navigated through the shady part of Muggle Aberdeen. He led them to a noisy pub up ahead. Taking her along was a spur of the moment decision but after their exchange in the library he realized two things; Piper Daniels could be an asset, and he enjoyed being around her.  
  
It didn't make any sense, why he would be so drawn to her, why she made his inner wolf come alive and demand more. He had initially been attracted to her mind—intelligent, fierce, and witty—she'd reminded him of _her_. Hermione. As she'd stood before him all those years ago—fiery eyes alive with righteous anger. He was reminded of flashes he had after Piper stabbed him while he was in his werewolf form. Perhaps the girl had been beaten down in this Voldemort-controlled world, but he sensed that there was still a lot of fight in her.  
  
Whatever the case, she proved to be valuable and he could use her in the fight to come.  
  
"It was a lynx by the way," he muttered over his shoulder.  
  
She frowned. "A lynx?"  
  
"The wildcat sigil," he explained. "It was a lynx."  
  
Draco felt her whole body tense and saw she'd gone pale. "Are you alright?"  
  
She nodded stiffly and he pulled her with him into the riotous bar. He made a beeline for the corner, quickly finding the table he sought. A cloaked figure sat waiting for them.  
  
The man nodded at the newcomers as they slid into the booth. Draco quickly cast a _Muffilato_ charm.  
  
"What mask do you wear today, friend?" asked Draco, as he motioned the steward to bring them two steins of beer.  
  
In the shadows, Draco saw him smirk before raising a wand to a tattoo on his wrist. His features quickly morphed into the familiar face of Kingsley Shacklebolt.  
  
Piper gasped. Draco shot her a look, furrowing his brows. Perhaps she was surprised to see such a display of magic?  
  
"Malfoy," said Shacklebolt as he let his hood fall lower over his face. "Glad to see you have journeyed here safely. Who is your friend?"  
  
"This is Piper Daniels. A Muggleborn from my district. She can be trusted."  
  
"Miss Daniels." Kingsley inclined his head in greeting.  
  
"Nice to meet you, sir," she said, voice slightly trembling. "But I don't understand. You were with the Ministry before, I remember you. You're supposed to be dead!"  
  
"Piper," Draco hissed in warning, attempting to catch her eye.  
  
The elder wizard sighed. "When it became apparent we were overwhelmed, some of us Apparated away in order to regroup. There were only a few of us left then, but now… we've rebuilt the Resistance."  
  
Her knuckles were white as she gripped the table. Stiffly, she turned to face Draco. "And _you're_ helping them?"  
  
He met her gaze but she looked away quickly, inexplicably avoiding it, her fingers trailing absently over the menu. "Voldemort was sending my parents to their death. My father went on the mission, but I helped my mother escape. The Order has her. I'm not pleased with the many lives that were lost in the war. I can't stomach living like this any longer."  
  
"But he's immortal."  
  
Kingsley drummed his fingers over the table. "Only thanks to Horcruxes—Horcruxes which can be and have been destroyed. There is only one left."  
  
"Couldn't he just make more?"  
  
"He doesn't have enough soul left," Draco said.  
  
Kingsley smiled broadly. "And now we have rebuilt, after ten years, we are finally ready. There are Order members all over the world. It would have been impossible without wizards like Malfoy who have spied for us."  
  
Piper sat back in her seat, looking shocked. Their mugs arrived and she reached for hers, taking a deep gulp. When she met his gaze, she looked oddly… guilty. But Draco waved it off.  
"Listen, Draco." Kingsley began. "You and Nott are going to be paramount in this."  
  
"Nott," Piper cried. "But he can't possibly be a part of this?"  
  
"How better to stay undercover than to be more ruthless than them all?" Draco asked, knowing exactly what had triggered her outburst. Nott was a very good spy. "No one ever suspects Wessex of anything, and it's partially thanks to him. It's not like he kills people."  
  
Piper looked like she wanted to argue but swallowed her retort. She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff.  
  
Kingsley continued. "So, this is the plan…"  
  


 

 

**000**

  
Her mind was reeling.  
  
Spinning.  
  
_Oh bloody hell this is bad_ , she thought. _Bad, but actually really good—but Merlin! This whole time I haven't been alone, and Malfoy's been in on it too?_  
  
She alternated between feeling cross, excited, and anxious…  
  
"We can sleep here tonight." Vaguely, she noticed Malfoy was talking. "Zabini is the Praetor of this district and we are safe until we Apparate back in the morning."  
  
She gave a stiff nod.  
  
"Piper," he said and she looked around frantically before desperate eyes found his. He put a reassuring hand over her arm. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, but I promise—it's a good thing."  
  
"No," she croaked. "I know, it's just…" _It's just I've been parading around this whole time as a different person and meanwhile the war has been going on without me! And how the bloody hell will Malfoy take this? Should I tell him? Of course I should, I'm just...afraid._  
  
"I know what you're thinking." _He does?_ Malfoy paced around the room. "You're wondering how I could be trusted, after all I've done." For a moment, Malfoy looked exposed and so heartbreakingly vulnerable. "But the thing is, I was sixteen, seventeen, and it was all thrust upon me. I was a coward, _afraid_. I knew _he_ should be stopped, towards the end I even hoped Potter would beat him. But I was no help to anyone, just a kid—a kid that had seen and done horrible things. It wasn't until the final battle, that I finally decided…when I saw first hand what true courage looked like."  
  
She bit her lip, hopeful but unsure. "The final battle?"  
  
"Yes, I saw someone… _die_. I couldn't save her, and it killed me. I realized I was being selfish, that if I died by Voldemort's hands, at least I would have done _something_. I wanted to, I was going to try and kill him when my parents got their mission. But I saw something, a Patronus. It was a lynx. Kingsley found me, and he's been guiding me ever since."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"So you see." He advanced towards her and suddenly Hermione saw the savage hunter in him again. "You don't have to fear me. I'm not your enemy." His words warred with his predatory stance.  
  
She couldn't breathe. Oh this was bad. Why did she feel as if she'd… _betrayed him in some way?_ He was being so honest with her, and this whole time…she'd been deceiving him.  
  
He was close to her now, he was always _so fucking close_ , and Hermione could hardly concentrate on what needed to be done. He was reaching for her and she wanted nothing more than to fling herself in his embrace. Just the knowledge that she wasn't alone in this, that there were others, made her heart swell with joy. She resisted.  
  
"Malfoy." She placed her hands firmly on his arms. "Here's the thing." He frowned, confused. "I, er…I have one of those nifty Rune tattoos too," she blurted, raising her hair so he could see her neck.  
  
"The Muggle tattoo? I don't understand…"  
  
"No, Malfoy, perhaps I should show you." She withdrew her wand and raised it to her neck, muttering the unmasking incantation. The spell activated immediately. Tears stung her eyes as she felt herself transforming, changing, morphing into the body of a person she hadn't seen in years. Would she even recognize herself? Would he?  
  
She felt familiar chestnut curls fall wildly over her shoulder. Her curves shifted and she looked down, suddenly afraid for him to see her face.  
  
She felt his fingers gently gripping her chin and allowed him to tilt her head to meet his inquisitive stare. When liquid gold eyes met molten silver, she saw Malfoy take a few steps backwards until he hit the wall and crumpled down.  
  
" _Hermione?_ " Her name sounded rough on his tongue. "It's you, you've been… _her_ all these years?"  
  
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded firmly.  
  
"I don't understand." She could scarcely meet the torrent of emotions that passed over his handsome face, but she couldn't look away either. "I saw your body…I offered you help, but you didn't take it."  
  
"I know." She took a shaky step forward. "And I regret that now. I didn't know you were sincere." A burning flicker of hope… longing… and want burst into Draco's silver eyes and abruptly, that eradicated Hermione's doubts.  
  
She immediately closed the distance between them and knelt down beside the trembling wizard, placing a hand on his shoulder. He wrenched away, running his hands through his hair.  
  
"It's okay," she cooed. "Everything's fine now. I'm sorry this hasn't happened sooner, I was just… _surviving_."  
  
"You don't have to apologize. Everything I did, anytime it was something good, I thought of you. And now you're here, and you can see first hand the monster I've become."  
  
"Draco. I don't think you're a monster. I think you're brave. I think you clever. And so incredibly brilliant to be running all of this." She cupped his chin, gently coaxing him to look at her.  
  
"It all makes sense now," he rasped. "Why I was so… attracted to you. It was your smell, the whole time. My inner wolf recognized it even if I didn't—it was you. Get away, Hermione. I'm warning you, I want nothing more than to take you in my arms, and _not_ let go."  
  
Her eyes widened, glittering with desire, and he flinched away when he saw it, gripping his legs harshly in an effort not to reach for her.  
  
She made the decision for him.  
  
Boldly straddling his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck and then pulled him towards her, eyelids fluttering shut, as she pressed her lips desperately against his.  
  
Their kiss was scorching… heated… she could hardly breathe as she tasted him, became consumed by him. She wanted more and bit his lip, demanding entry. He groaned and she touched her tongue to his, sending electric jolts down her chest and straight to the pit of her abdomen. She let out a needy whimper.  
  
He kissed her fiercely, passionately, and she melted in his arms, moulding her body to press up against his hot muscles wherever they could touch. His hands fisted in her unruly curls and she felt a stab of desire slam into her, causing her to buck her hips against him.  
  
Suddenly, he pulled away, panting. "Get away from me, Hermione." He looked up at her and she was struck by how undone he looked. "I'm warning you, I want nothing more but to bite you, mark you as my mate. You should leave _now_."  
  
Hermione shook her head, smirking slightly as she lifted her hair and arched her neck. _An invitation…_  
  
Draco growled and suddenly, she was on her back, not even noticing the way her head thwacked hard against the floor. She moaned as he didn't bite her, but rather, latched onto a particularly sensitive tendon on her neck and ran his hands frantically over her body.  
  
She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off, desperate to feel his skin up against hers. His hands found their way under her shirt and she keened in approval at the feel of them on her breasts.  
  
"Please, Draco."  
  
His hands flew to her jeans and he unbuttoned them, quickly pulling them off of her before divesting himself of his own trousers. Her tongue flicked out to lick his ear before descending to the sensitive skin of his neck. He wasn't moving bloody fast enough, and she was ready— _gods was she ready!_  
  
His fingers danced over the silky skin of her thigh before edging up to her knickers. He caressed her over the soft cotton and it was maddening. When he wrenched her knickers away and touched her skin to skin, she nearly bucked off the floor.  
  
"Stop teasing, Malfoy," she demanded hotly. Her fingers found their way to his erection and she palmed him roughly.  
  
He hissed in response, stilling the motion of her wrist. " _Hermione_ ," he whispered throatily. "Don't, I won't be able to…be gentle."  
  
"Don't." She ground her hips against him and he growled, positioning himself at her entrance before finally entering her. Once more, Hermione saw stars as she clamped down on him, nearly convulsed, her greedy heat not wanting him to move an inch.  
  
But he did move and Hermione whimpered at the delicious friction, quickly losing the ability to think as she begged him to go harder… faster. He kissed her, swallowing her moans as he began snapping his hips and picking up speed.  
  
Feeling on the precipice of falling, she began meeting him thrust for thrust, seeking the maddening promise of bliss. His mouth clamped down on her shoulder, marking her, breaking through her skin, which should have been painful but inexplicably turned to bliss. And then…she was shattering, freefalling into oblivion, clinging onto him for dear life as he thrust erratically into her, each one more powerful than the last, before he finally howled with his own pleasure.  
  
Moments later, she was aware he had collapsed on top of her. He quickly rolled to his back still breathing heavily.  
  
"You marked me," she said with a smirk, now feeling a sting on her shoulder where before there'd only been pleasure.  
  
"Yeah, sorry. I did warn you though."  
  
"I know, and it's okay. Better than okay, actually."  
  
His head flopped over and he was looking at her with such intense love, it was hard to focus. "What now?"  
  
"Well," she mused, lying languidly on her back. "I suppose we work on the plan to kill Voldemort."  
  
He smiled and Hermione could hardly contain her joy at the satiated look on his face.  
  
"Meanwhile," he rolled to his side, fingers dancing over her bared stomach. "We at least have the rest of the night to ourselves, before we enact that plan."  
  
She smirked. "What do you suggest we do?"  
  
"Well, werewolves do tend to be…quite _virile_."  
  
Her smile widened as she looked adoringly at her wolf. She'd been through so much and so much had changed. But she was no longer alone.  
  
**THE END**


End file.
